


Maladjusted

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, M/M, Partner Betrayal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 00:58:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim deals with the fact that his relationship with Blair is over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maladjusted

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when I'm feeling sorry for myself and then make the mistake of listening to Morrissey. My sister hated the fact that Jim  & Blair didn't end up together so she wrote a sequal it's called No Regrets. Mine is called Perfect Love Gone Wrong. There's a mistake in her posting.

## Maladjusted

by dazzer

Author's webpage: <http://www.angelfire.com/ga4/garett/senslash.htm>

Author's disclaimer: Whatever.

* * *

Why do I continue to do this to myself? Why do I believe people when they flatter me? I should know better by now. I should know that they're just being nice, that they don't really mean that they like me or that they care about me or that they love me. 

I guess I just want it so badly ... want to be like other, normal people ... people that other people like and care about and sometimes even love. 

I know I'm not easy to get along with and I know I don't always let people in, but that doesn't mean I don't wish I could, that I don't want to. 

People think I repress things, and it's true, I do. Just not the things they think. I don't repress my sexuality. I've always accepted the fact that I'm sexually attracted to both men and women. It's never really bothered me. As the old commercial used to say "double the pleasure, double the fun." But when you spend most of your adult life in two of the most homophobic institutions in this country - the military and a city police department - you just don't broadcast things. You learn to be discreet. Discretion and repression are not the same thing, even if most people fail to see the distinction. 

What I do repress is the pain. I can't stand the pain. The reason I don't remember things from my childhood is because they were so painful. Can you imagine what it's like to be abandoned by your mother, the one person who is supposed to love you unconditionally? If she can't love you then why would anyone else? It made me hard and it made me cold and apparently, it made me unlovable. 

Every once in a while there would be someone who would come along and pretend to like me for a month or two. Then I'd think that this person was right, that this person cared, that this person loved me. But then that person would leave. And he would say that he still cared for me or she would say that we'd still be friends and I'd stumble around until someone else came along and lied so convincingly that I believed them. Then I'd give my heart to them. 

I didn't repress my sentinel abilities because I didn't want the responsibility. I repressed them because I repressed all of my mission to Peru. Such a failure. So much pain. How could one man lose his entire outfit before the mission even started? They told me I more than made up for it by training the natives and holding the Chopec Pass for 18 months, but to me it was still a failure and failure equals pain. I should have been able to do more. I should have been able to save them. 

Then there was Carolyn. I really tried with her. I really tried to open up and tell her things, but it was never enough or it was never the right thing. At least we stayed friends. At least she could make me see that while she didn't love me enough to live with me the way I am, she liked me enough to stay my friend, to care about me. Most days I can see that and most days I can accept that, but some days, like today, it's just not enough. 

I call her sometimes, just to remind myself, just to hear her voice. Sometimes it makes me feel better. Sometimes she's not there and I know she's out with someone, someone who can talk to her, tell her what she needs to hear, wants to hear. Someone she can love. 

I called her tonight. She asked how I was and I could hear the sadness in her response when I said I was fine, just like a hundred times before. She told me about her job and she told me about her friends. She asked about Simon and Joel, Rafe & H and few other friends from the old days. Then she asked me about Blair. I know she heard the catch in my voice when I told her he's fine. And suddenly she had to go, but she told me that she missed me, that she cared for me, that she loved me. But it wasn't enough, never enough. 

I fought his friendship for so long. I told myself that he was just being nice to me because of the sentinel and guide thing or because he was grateful that I was letting him stay at my place or he appreciated riding along so he could get what he needed for his dissertation. But he said it was more than that. He said we were buddies, that we were best friends ... we're such good friends anyway so we should just go ahead and take this step. Everybody already thinks we're doing it anyway so why not? 

And then he said he understood. He said it didn't matter. And I fell. 

He said it was forever, that he didn't want to run around anymore, that he wanted to settle down. I think we both knew it was a lie, but at the time it didn't matter. They were the words I wanted to hear, the words he wanted to say. 

So now I sit here and work on repressing the pain of another failed relationship. I tell him I'm okay, that I understand, that I'm fine. I can't watch him go out with someone else yet so I make excuses for not being home. I sit in the truck and wait until I hear him leave, whistling happily to himself as he heads out for another conquest. I hide in my room and think about us. 

I think about the way he looked with my dick in his mouth, his blue eyes dark with what I believed was passion, his hair spread out on my thighs. I had never seen anything so beautiful in my life. 

And when I had my dick up his ass he said we were one. You couldn't see where I ended and he began. We moved together flawlessly - stroke, counter stroke. My mouth was on his nipples, his hands on my head and when he screamed my name as he came it sounded magical. Jim is such a plain name, but not when he says it and not when he screams it when I've made him come. 

His beautiful lips tell such beautiful lies. 

I wonder if she believes him when he tells her that he loves her. Or maybe she doesn't need to hear that. Maybe she's not as needy as me. Maybe she's not maladjusted. 

So where do we go from here? Are we still buddies? Are we still friends? Does everyone still think we're doing it anyway? 

I'm just not sure. I know I don't want him to live here anymore, but I can't let him go. I know that I would die if he was gone. Maybe that sounds dramatic, but I know it's true. So we go on like nothing happened, like there wasn't magic between us. 

And I sit here while he's gone, while he's out with someone else and I push down the pain and I work on smiling when I say I'm okay and I work on sounding happy when I say it because it's what he needs to hear, to see, to believe. It's what we both need. 

Maybe someday I won't even remember this part of my life. It will just be another black hole in my soul. Another place that takes in light and energy and emits nothing. It's nothing, I'm okay, I'm fine. 

* * *

End

 


End file.
